A Haunted Holiday
I was working in the lab late one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
For my monster from his slab began to rise
And suddenly to my surprise
-"The Monster Mash" Bobby Pickett
The Halloween feast was spectacular. The great Hall had been decorated with hundreds of floating pumpkins carved into jack-o-lanterns. Live bats were flying around the ceiling rafters, occasionally swooping down and scaring the occasional first year. The ghosts had formed a haunted chorus and were screeching horrible sounding music, although it really couldn't be classified as music more as a sound.
The food was magnificent. There were so many different dishes. It was more festive than the Welcoming feast had been, and there was a lot of candy thrown onto the tables.
When the food had been cleared, the Gryffindor first years headed back to their dormitories, although they did not sleep.
--
In the girls' room, Jena, Chrissy, Lily, and Adrianne were exchanging ghost stories they had heard.
--
Ironically enough, they boys were doing the same thing in their room. Sirius started.
"It was a clear night just like this. The moon was a retreating crescent in the starry sky when the hooked man"
"A hooked man?" James interrupted.
"Yes, a man with a hooked hand, or more like a hook in place of a hand."
"Then call it that."
"Don't interrupt my story Potter."
"Sorry."
"Sssh!" Peter hissed.
"Thanks Pete, mate. Now to continue…The moon was a retreating crescent in the start sky when a man with a hooked hand crept slowly through the shadows toward the school. The castle doors creaked open with the touch of his silver hook. He slipped through the small opening, and ducked into one or the shadowy corners of the Entrance Hall."
--
"And then he slithered slowly up the marble staircase toward where the students would be sleeping." Jena said, in her creepiest voice.
"Slithered? Humans can't slither up stairs." Lily said.
"I didn't make up the words. This is how Frank told me." Jena clarified. "Anyway, so the hooked man made his was through the dark shadowy halls toward the Gryffindor common room."
"Why the Gryffindor common room? Hufflepuff is closer." Chrissy asked.
"I don't know. He's a crazy murderer with a hook for a hand. Maybe he knows where the Gryffindor common room is and nobody else's. Now stop interrupting me!"
--
"He stood perplexed-"
"Perplexed, good word mate." James interrupted.
"Thanks mate, but it wasn't mine. Anyway, back to the story. He stood perplexed at the entrance to the Gryffindor Common room, not knowing the password. He poked the Fat Lady with the point of his hooked hand and she awoke with a scream. It was muffled by the sound of ripping canvas. Once the Fat Lady was no more, the man with a hooked hand was at a loss of ways to get into the common room, so he waited."
--
"Much to his delight a small girl came out of the common room shortly after he settled himself in the dark corner."
"What corner? There is no corner. And why would some girl be leaving the common room in the dead of night?"
"Shut up Lily!" Jena, Chrissy, and Adrianne shouted together.
Jena continued on with her story, ignoring all of Lily's questions. "As the girl walked past him, in a sleepy haze, he grabbed onto her arm with his hooked hand. With his actual hand, he covered her mouth so she couldn't scream."
--
"And then he used his hooked hand to slit her neck. Once she went limp he dropped her onto the shadows and crept through the now open portrait hole."
"Why didn't it swing back closed when the girl walked out?" Remus asked.
"Because the Fat Lady is gone, remember! Anyway, he crept into the darkened common room and made his way toward the girls' staircase. His foot was inches from the surface when he remembered the cruel booby trap on the girls' staircase."
"There's a booby-trap on the girls' staircase?" James asked in shock.
"I'm getting there." Sirius said. "Wait patiently my friend."
--
"So he decided to turn around and go for the boys' side. He passed up the first door, labeled 'Seventh Years' and moved on until he found 'First Years.' The door squeaked open, alerting the sleeping boys to their intruder. The boys shot up from their slumber to see nothing."
"Where did he go?" Lily asked. The other three girls just gave her a look.
--
"The without any warning, the man with the hooked hand jumped out of the shadows and killed them all with his hooked hand. He left their blood soaked and mangled bodies lying where they boys had died and made his way to the next room."
"Not one of them got away? Even if they were ambushed its still only one on at least four. We could take on some crazed hooked murderer." James said.
"I thought he wasn't hooked." Remus pointed out.
James threw his pillow at him, which was thrown right back.
--
"He killed the entire male Gryffindor population without anyone outside being alerted at all."
"He got the whole tower without anyone hearing any screams. Incredibly unbelievable." Lily said.
"Yeah, he's fast. Now let me finish." Jena said. "In the morning, a seventh year girl went to wake up her boyfriend and found his and four other mangled bodies lying in pools of scarlet red blood. Upon further inspection, they discovered the entire house had been attacked, leaving nothing but the Gryffindor girls in the tower. They never found the hooked man, and only the fat lady could give a viable description as all the other witnesses were dead."
"Wow Jena, is this a true story?" Asked Adrianne when she was sure it was over.
"Frank says it is, which doesn't mean much, but it's still pretty scary."
"Yeah it is."
--
"That story was so lame Black." James whined when Sirius was finished with the story.
"That's only because you kept interrupting at the good parts. Anyway, it's your turn so let's see if you can top it."
"My story will have you wetting you knickers."
"Then get on with it."
'I am, I am."
--
"Ok, who's next?" Jena asked.
"I've got nothing." Adrianne said, forfeiting storytelling rights.
"Lily?"
"Ok. Have any of you ever read any Poe?"
"Huh?" The three girls asked confused.
"He's an American poet and author from the 1840s who wrote a lot of scary stories. One of my favorites it "The Tell Tale Heart" but I'm going to share one my mum read to me once on Halloween years ago. It's called "The Masque of the Red Death."" Lily went over to her trunk and pulled out a thick leather bound book. After seeing the looks of her friends she said, "It's the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe, and yes I brought it with me to school. Ok, so here it goes…
"The "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal --the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.
"But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."
"It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.
"It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven --an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke's love of the bizarre. The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue --and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange --the fifth with white --the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet --a deep blood color. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire that protected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.
"It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.
"But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.
"He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm --much of what has been since seen in "Hernani." There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these --the dreams --writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away --they have endured but an instant --and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.
"But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise --then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.
"In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revelers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood --and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.
"When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.
""Who dares?" he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him --"who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him --that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the battlements!"
"It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly --for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.
"It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centers of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple --through the purple to the green --through the green to the orange --through this again to the white --and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry --and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revelers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.
"And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revelers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all."
"Wow, that's really, intense." Adrianne said in awe of the story Lily had just read them.
"Yeah, you should read some of Poe's other works. He's really amazing. And I'm surprised none of you interrupted me."
"That's because you were the only interrupter in my story." Jena joked. Lily threw a pillow at her. Jena threw it back but missed and hit Adrianne. Adrianne threw the pillow back at Jena, starting an all out pillow fight. After their pillows had been strewn all over the room, the girls sat back down to finish their stories. Unfortunately nobody could think of a story to tell so the girls continued to play. Jena and Chrissy had started knocking into each other with pillows, trying to knock the other over. They called it pillow-sumo wrestling.
--
"You're killing us James, stop pacing and just tell us the story." Peter whined.
"Ok, ok, I'm starting. Are you sure you're ready for it?"
"Yes!" The other three shouted in unison.
"Ok, it all started on a full moon." James said dramatically. Remus winced. "What's the matter Lupin, you scared already?"
"No, I just, got a shiver." Remus said, thinking quickly of a cover for his flinch.
"Right. Anyway, it was the night of a full moon. The full moon is the night when all the weirdoes and demons come out. Children are warned not to leave the safety of their homes and parents' protection on the night of a full moon, but one little boy didn't listen. He heard the stories of what happens on a full moon, he got curious. As the mood broadened into the full sphere, the boy packed a knapsack and got ready to explore the horrors of the full moon. He snuck out of the house while his mother was cleaning up after dinner and his father was smoking in his study. The boy"
"Does he have a name?" Asked Peter.
"No, so the boy"
"Can we give him a name?"
"No. The boy crept out the front"
"Why not?"
"Because that's the way the story goes. Do you want me to call him Peter?"
"No."
"Ok, then stop asking about the name. So the boy crept out the front door and down the stoop. He reached the end of the street and felt a wave of relief wash over him. He made it this far, what else could happen? He wasn't sure what to do, so he decided to go to the little park at the end of his street. He had been there many times in daylight and knew the place pretty well. He set his knapsack down so that it was resting on the support pole for the swings. He climbed onto the nearest swing and started swing, so high he felt like the starts were just out of his reach. The out of nowhere came—" James crumpled an old candy wrapper laying under his bed. Remus and Peter both jumped at the sound. "Wow Lupin, I expected this from Pete, but not you." James said. "Anyway, the sound. The boy got scared and stopped pumping his legs so eventually he was level with the ground again. The noise came again, and it sounded very close. The boy got off the swing and headed for the monkey bars nearby. At least there he would be off the ground and out of reach of any animals. He climbed to the top and stared across the park, trying to catch a glimpse of anything, a slight movement in the shadows, a gleaming pair of eyes, anything. The without warning—" James crumpled the paper, louder and longer this time. "It was approaching him, and the boy couldn't see it anywhere. His heart was racing. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, telling him to run, to get out. The boy jumped off the monkey bars and ran, faster than he ever had in his life. The noise picked up speed and was soon joined by a soft thud" and James patted the floor along with the noise of the wrapper. "Soon the noise was right behind the boy. He tripped on a stick and fell onto his face. When he rolled over, he saw a beastly monster staring him in the eyes. He was found the next morning, his body so mangled it was beyond recognition. They had to use the dental records from one small tooth to identify him as the young boy who went missing the previous night. To this day, on the full moon, the sounds of the boy running from the noise—" and he crinkled the wrapper and thudded on the floor "can be heard from the park." James completed his story and looked at his three friends. Peter look ready to wet himself, all the color had drained from Remus's face but he looked calm, and Sirius looked amused.
"That wasn't all that scary." Sirius said, a grin spreading across his face.
"Y-yes i-it wa-was Ja-James." Peter said shaking.
"Don't wet yourself over it Pete. I doubt you'll ever be in Ottery St. Catchpole."
"I-I live in Ot-Ottery St. Catch-Catchpole." Peter squeaked. James chuckled to Sirius.
"Sorry mate. Stay away from that park on the full moon then." James said through laughter.
"Peter, he's just giving you a hard time. It's just an urban legend, a story told to scare people, but they aren't true." Remus said calmly to Peter. It didn't seem to help much, especially since that night Peter slept with a light on inside of his curtains all night.
--
The girls continued their sumo wrestling until they all collapsed on the floor. As they lay panting on the pile of pillows and blankets in the center of the room, they continued to exchange storied although now they were all a lot less scary and a lot shorter. Adrianne told stories of the chateau her grandfather owned and the history of it. She even added a few ghosts even though it was a lie. Chrissy was convinced that her bedroom at home was haunted by the ghost of an old lady who died there years ago after her husband found her in bed with another man. They fell asleep well past 2 am lying haphazardly on the floor at the center of the room.
--
A/N: Wow that was a fun chapter to write. I was going to use Poe's "Tell Tale Heart" but I figured a lot of people have heard it so I went with something different. "The Masque of the Red Death" was something I read for my 10th grade English class, 11th grade (I think) and now my college Creative Writing class, and I thought it fit pretty well. Now I have freaked myself out searching for urban legends (and then ultimately making my own up). Hope you all aren't as freaked as I am. I did make up the other two stories and if they are similar to something you have read somewhere it was purely accidental, I just want to get that out there. Oh and just to clarify, James said that his story took place in Ottery St. Catchpole because he knew it would scare Peter, and I thought that it made sense for Peter to grow up near where the Weasleys live if that's where he ends up in rat form years later. Oh and the song doesn't fit that well but I couldn't think of any creepy songs so I went with the Halloween classic "Monster Mash" because, well it rocks! Odds are if there are any other just Halloween chapters in the future I will use a different part of this same song, so look out for it! Please Review and let me know how I am doing...I haven't gotten reviews since Lily's chapter which was (I believe) chapter 4. So seriously, read and review for my sanities sake (i'm really losing it...its November 11th and I am listening to Christmas music...) Also The offer still stands for a co-writter or something of that sort because honestly I am having so much trouble with the here and now of my story, and after Christmas I have nothing until about 5th year, and even that is half a chapter. So if you want updates please please please offer me suggestions! Thanks!
DISCLAIMER: I do no own any of this nor am I making any profit, this is just my way to procrastinate on doing my homework. All names, places, ect. From the Harry Potter world belong to JK Rowling and the publishers ect. and the song quotes belong to their respective artists and the correct rights owners. I also have no rights to the Edgar Allen Poe story and am making no money off of its use.